


It's All Fun and Games

by thekingofcarrotflowers



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Allergic reaction, Allergies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bullying, Emotional Hurt, Enemies to Friends, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Near Death Experiences, Practical joke gone wrong, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Pre-Relationship, Prompt Fill, Self Confidence Issues, budding friendships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 18:12:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4273080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thekingofcarrotflowers/pseuds/thekingofcarrotflowers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Most of Skyhold is taking part in pranking the prissy Tevinter mage, until the fun takes a turn for the worse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's All Fun and Games

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATE 9/8/16: This fic is old and flawed. Somewhere along the way, it went sideways from where I intended and my intentions became jumbled. I've learned from your comments and may return to fix it one day. Read at your own risk. 
> 
> Felt like I should include a warning for bullying, in case that is triggering for anyone!
> 
> Based on a Kink Meme prompt. It got a lot longer than I planned, and became a series of scenes that build up over time. If anything seems disjointed, let me know. I've reread it in sections and edited a couple times & have sat on this for a few days, but I actually wrote the ending first so I don't know if everything flows together well at this point.
> 
> Here's the prompt! I guess it might be spoiler-y, but I think you might know what happens based on the tags or if you follow my Tumblr:
> 
> Pre-Adoribull or early in the relationship before they realize it might something more. Lets just say Dorian is not particular popular even amongst his fellow members of the Inquisition (save the Inquisitor him/herself and Bull), people are still getting to know him and he’s still looked at with plunty of suspicion and flat out dislike. So everyone is rather amused and entertained when various people (including some members of the Inquisition) begin to play various pranks on him, its mostly harmless and annoying things with a few more embarrassing pranks that have everyone (except Dorian)laughing this keeps up for a few weeks when a particular prank goes horribly wrong.
> 
> Maybe someone slips a sneezing-powder or hick-oping potion into Dorian’s wine, but the tevinter mage has a serious allergic reaction. Everyone knew about the prank ahead of time, but instead of everyone laughing at the prank everyone is shocked to see Dorian’s eyes roll up into his head, collapse and begin to violently convulse. But thats not the worst part, for aside from his flailing, for a while no one can get close to help him because his magic is also flailing lightning and bouts of unpredictable flames spontaneously appearing and destroying everything around him. Eventually the others manage to help him, but needless to say no one pranks him again.

The group wasn’t far from Skyhold yet, the fortress hidden just beyond the snowcapped mountains as they move into the dense forest ahead. Their horses were moving at a steady but undemanding pace, and Dorian took a moment to admire the crisp, clear sky. Things look different back home — hazier, flatter, though no less beautiful. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the crisp air despite the cold that comes with it, and sighed. Then, something went skittering across his bare shoulder, quickly grabbing his attention. A huge, black, hairy spider scrambled down his arm, and he flicked it off with a groan of disgust.

  
“Y’all right there, Dorian?” Bull asked, glancing over to him. He was riding a big beast of a horse, the only one suitable for such a massive man.

  
“Just, _nature_ ,” Dorian sighed, checking for a bite mark and shaking his head slightly.

  
“Yeah, a lot of it out here,” Bull chuckled fondly.

  
Dorian returned to his daydreaming, imagining what the weather must be back home right now. Warm, slightly hazy as summer faded into fall, the perfect time for apple ales and that earthy red wine that the vineyard near his home only made during this time of year. Something else skittered across his shoulder, and Dorian brushed that one away quickly, checking himself over for anymore.

  
“Is anyone else finding an unnatural amount of spiders on their person, or is it just me?” Dorian asked, flicking another one off his leg. Sera glanced back at him, a small smiling playing at her lips.

  
The Inquisitor shrugged, “We are under the trees. Sometimes they fall off, y’know?”

  
“Great,” Dorian grumbled, feeling as if he was itching all over now.

  
Some time passed before Dorian noticed another surge of spiders, finding four scattered across his body. Hurriedly, he swiped them away, muttering in Tevene.

  
“Uh, Dorian,” Bull said, trying to suppress a smile, “Yah got about five more on your back.”

  
“ _Kaffas_!” Dorian exclaimed, straining to reach behind him a brush them off of him, “Where are they all coming from? Blighted things. I thought the giant ones were a pest.”

  
As Dorian turned in his saddle, he noticed another gathering of spiders on his pack hanging off his horse’s side. He grabbed his reigns, pulling the horse to a stop, and scrambled to the earth as the others stared. A little frantic, he pulled his pack from the horse and unclasped the belts keeping it closed. Inside was a squirming black mass, and Dorian dropped the bag with a yelp.

  
“My bag is full of fuckin’ spiders!” Dorian exclaimed, the pack spilling its contents, which included hundreds of squirming spiders. He wasn’t scared of the pests, but the sheer number of them was a little unsettling. The Inquisitor let out a little ‘oh, dear’ as Sera began to cackle, tipping off of her horse in the process, “ _You_.”

  
“Surprised it took them this long to show up,” Sera giggled, pointing at Dorian as he began to smash his boot into the ground, spiders scurrying away in his wake.

  
“What if they’re poisonous?” Dorian shrilled, scratching at a bite on his arm.

  
“Pfft, I wouldn’t put bloody poisonous creepers in your bag. That would take away all the fun,” Sera insisted, giggling as Dorian jumped away from the spiders trying to crawl up his leg.  His horse was now stomping around irritably, picking up on Dorian’s emotions and having a few spiders splattered across his legs and flank.

  
“How did you even get them in there?” Dorian demanded.

  
“Bit of help from that horse master. Doesn’t seem to like you one lick, so it was easy.”

  
“Bloody elf,” Dorian huffed.

  
“Oi!” Sera growled, irritation clear on her face.

  
“Ah, c’mon, Dorian,” Bull insisted, guiding his horse a little closer to Dorian, “Bit of fun never hurt anyone.”

  
“ _Fun_ ,” Dorian echoed, still stomping on the black mass of spiders covering the earth.

 

\---

  
  
“Here comes Master Betterthanthou himself,” Sera hissed, nudging Varric with her boot from her spot on the table. Bull narrowed his eyes at them as he walked into the hall in his search for the Inquisitor, wondering what _that_ pair could be up to. They were at a spot where Sera could see into the open door to a hallway across the room, and while Bull couldn’t tell who was walking down the hall, he had his guesses. The way the spot on the floor glistened and caught in the light, Bull knew someone must have slicked it up.

  
When Dorian appeared through the doorway, he looked poisoned and beautiful for a brief moment before his boot slipped out from under him. He was all flailing arms and skidding boots for a long moment, a bit comical, like something from one of the cartoons Sera drew on any blank surface. Then, Dorian fell down hard, flat on his ass. He groaned, rubbing at his tailbone, as the room erupted in laughter, and Bull suspected the whole crowd was in on the joke. Bull couldn’t deny that it was amusing to see Dorian like that, the prissy mage with wide, wild eyes as he flailed before the fall, his face scrunched up in annoyance and discomfort. Still, it made him a little uncomfortable to see the cruel scowls on the faces as many, to hear the dislike in their guffawing at the evil Tevinter mage.

  
“Hey, Dorian,” Bull asked, a small smile on his face as he drew up to the man.

  
“Did you do this?” Dorian demanded, still rubbing at his back. He tried to begin to stand, but his feet failed to make purchase on the floor again, and the room was in an uproar when he smacked back on his back.

  
“Nah, but I think you can figure out who it was,” Bull shrugged, offering Dorian a hand. Dorian glared at it for a moment before accepting it, Bull easily lifting him to his feet and setting him back down _away_ from the slicked floor. From across the room, Varric and Sera gave Dorian a salute, before chuckling to each other again.

  
“Bastards,” Dorian spat, “I’m going to have quite the bruise. I could have broken my tailbone!”

  
“Oh, come on, ‘Vint!” Sera yelled across the hall, everyone able to hear, “Get the stick outta yer arse and relax a bit, yeah? It wouldn’t kill you.”

  
Dorian let out a stream of Tevene curses, storming out of the hall and into the courtyard. Bull was pretty sure he was going to blow apart a few training dummies, just as he had the other day when Stitches and Dalish switched out his mug of ale for some awful concoction they’d come up with while he was taking a piss.

  
“Might want to get that cleaned up before someone like Viv walks across it,” Bull nodded towards the spot, “Don’t think she’ll be as understanding.”

  
Fear flashed across Sera’s face, before she scrambled to go fetch some cleaning supplies.

  
“Dorian, wait up,” Bull called to the mage as he stomped towards the training grounds. Dorian hesitated before continuing forward.

  
“What do _you_ want?” Dorian called back over his shoulder, “Here to embarrass me further with your crude flirting?”

  
Bull caught up in a few long strides, suspecting that Dorian actually wanted him to, or else the mage would have dashed off to one of his hiding spots around Skyhold. He frowned, wondering just why the man had so many nooks and crannies he stole away to.

  
“If you want me to stop flirting, just say so,” Bull shrugged casually.

  
“I don’t want to be made a joke of,” Dorian answered, looking away as hurt showed clearly on his face.

  
“Never meant to make fun,” Bull said sincerely, moving so he could look Dorian in the eye, “Honest.”

  
Dorian furrowed his brow, still a little hesitant to accept Bull’s word. The man hadn’t _seemed_ particularly concerned to keep his embarrassing, though admittedly flattering, passes quiet, and Dorian had suspected it was his way of adding to all the little jokes the people of Skyhold were playing on him.

  
“Truly?” Dorian asked, looking deep into Bull’s eye to find anything that indicated he was lying. He knew he couldn’t best a Ben-Hassrath spy, but Bull was usually pretty upfront about things.

  
“Yeah. Jus’ like pretty things, and _damn_ , are you pretty,” Bull grinned at him, “Didn’t mean to give the wrong impression. I can stop.”

  
“No! No, I just…” Dorian’s cheek grew hot, knowing he had replied a little too quickly, “I thought you were making fun of me, like everyone else.”

  
“Nah,” Bull shook his head, then reached out to brush his thumb against Dorian’s chin, “They’re just having a bit of fun.”

  
Dorian grumbled, “Tell that to my ruined books and bruised backside.”

  
“Books?” Bull asked, trying to think of any of the pranks he’d seen that involved Dorian’s books.

  
He waved his hand dismissively, “Nothing, Sera just made some crude illustrations in a few of my books.”

  
“Hm,” Bull frowned again, “Well, give it some time. They’ll come around.”

  
“Right,” Dorian said, still sounding skeptical. He patted Bull’s arm, before crossing towards the training grounds.

 

\---

  
  
When Bull woke at dawn to train and then bathe, he was surprised to find the bedroll next to his empty. He and Dorian had been sharing a tent during the latest excursion, Varric and the Inquisitor in the other. Dorian usually woke gradually, dallying around the tent as he prepared for the day. When he poked his head from the tent, Dorian wasn’t around the fire or drinking his morning cup of bad coffee.

  
“Where’d Dorian get off to so early?” he asked the requisition officer. A mean smile played on her lips, and he gestured towards the lake.

  
“Think he had a bit of a mess to deal with,” she grinned lopsided, as if Bull should know about whatever it was.

  
“Right,” Bull huffed, heading down towards the river. He found Dorian bent over his boots, scrubbing at them with an old rag. He looked irritated and disheveled, not having fixed his hair or mustache yet. There was the distinct smell of shit wafting up from around him, “What yah doin’, ‘Vint?”

  
Dorian looked up, startled, and relaxed when he saw it was only the Bull, “Cleaning my boots.”

  
Bull frowned, “Did you step in shit?”

  
Dorian laughed, sounding bitter, “No, _someone_ decided to fill by boots in druffalo dung.”

  
Bull blinked, “Huh?”

  
Dorian shrugged slightly, continuing to scrub at the boot. The, letting out a frustrated noise, he threw one of them into the water. It floated there, Dorian dropping his head and tugging at his hair.

  
“Don’t you have another pair?” Bull questioned. He always brought a spare pair of boots with him, in case one were ruined on the rocky hillscape or filled with mud when they trekked through bogs. It was the sensible thing to do, and he wondered if Dorian overlooked that because of his lack of prior adventuring.

  
Dorian sniffed, and Bull chest tightened at the idea of Dorian crying over his ruined boots, “I only have the one pair.”

  
“Ah, crap,” Bull frowned, heading closer to Dorian and wading out into the water to fetch his boot, “They probably didn’t realize that.”

  
“The soldiers hate me, Sera hates me, your Chargers hate me,” Dorian grumbled, wiping his face on his forearm.

  
“C’mon, now,” Bull tried to sound cheerful, but he knew it was hard when Dorian’s boots reeked like shit and the poor guy would have to walk around all day in them, “Once we get going, everyone will smell like shit and no one will pay any mind. It smells like fertilizer and bog half the time anyways.”

  
Dorian shrugged slightly.

  
“Well, if it means anything, I certainly don’t hate you,” Bull offered gently, presenting the dripping wet boot as he said it.

  
Dorian looked up, looking a little surprised, and relaxed slightly. He nodded then, continuing his efforts to get the worse of the smell out of the boots. The day passed with Varric making off-hand comments about the smell. Even some strangers they ran across called attention to the odor that was lingering with the mage. Bull made sure to lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder to keep Dorian relatively relaxed, and made a metal note to get Josephine to buy him an extra pair of boots when they got home.

 

\---

  
  
There was a tentative knock on the Bull’s door before it swung open. He’d forewent drinking at the bar tonight in favor of going over reports in bed with one of Dagna’s magically warmed rocks pressed to his scar. The old injury on his knee had been relentlessly painful since he returned from the Forbidden Oasis, all that shifting sand and ladders and climbing taking its toll. Hesitantly, Dorian stepped inside, looking like a drowned rat. His makeup was smeared down his cheeks, his hair was flattered against his head, and his mustache was drooping somewhat comically. There wasn’t a dry spot to be found on his robes, and the expression he wore looked completely miserable.

  
“Didn’t think it was raining,” Bull commented off-handedly, swinging his legs out of bed with some difficulty.

  
“Only in the tavern. And if your name is Dorian,” he grumbled back, then he waved Bull away, “You don’t have to get up.”

  
“Another prank from the boys, I take it?” Bull asked gently, ignoring Dorian’s instructions to stay sitting and pushing himself to his feet with a pop of his knee and a small groan.

  
“It’s impossible to get any work done when I find drawings of genitals in my most important literature and someone fills my pillows with custard. I have to worry what’s going to happen next at every turn!” Dorian shrilled, throwing his hands up, eyes going bright with anger and the threat of tears.

  
“Wondered what happened to all that custard at dinner the other day,” Bull said lightly, though his chest was constricting painfully. He’d noticed that the pranks were relentless, not even stopping after both the Inquisitor and Josephine tried to smooth things over. The Ambassador had made a special appearance in the tavern to make an attempt to increase Dorian’s popularity, but it had all fallen flat. It seemed as if half of Skyhold was in on the pranks, and Dorian was growing more and more irritated with each one. It was making it particularly hard to get the man to warm up to him, since he kept company with some of the worse offenders, “It’s a bit like an initiation.”

  
“I wasn’t aware I was joining some horrendous cult,” Dorian quipped, glaring at Bull as he kept moving closer.

  
Bull sighed again, “The Chargers do it to all the new boys.”

  
“With your full support, I assume.”

  
“Well..” Bull frowned, then shrugged. Normally, it wasn’t this drawn-out. A few pranks, a few laughs, and their attention turned to something else.

  
Dorian sighed, putting his head in his hands, “Can you call your hooligans off, at least?”

  
Bull grunted slightly. He had tried to convince the Chargers and Sera that enough was enough. They’d insisted they were almost done, just waiting to figure out the grand finale. Bull wasn’t one to put his foot down in such matters, and he had let it slide then.  Now, he wondered if he’d have to give the order to his men, not wanting to have to see Dorian completely break down over this.

  
“I’ll take that as a no,” Dorian snapped, going to turn back to the door, “I thought here might be just about the only place free from their carnage, but I see you aren’t really on my side either.”

  
“Dorian, wait,” Bull said gently, grabbing him loosely back the wrist, “Stay a bit. No one’s gonna bother you here.”

  
For a moment, the man looked torn, before nodding slightly. Bull helped him get a fire roaring in his mostly unused hearth, and Dorian sat huddled in front of it as he tried to dry off. If he wasn’t worried about not being able to get back up if he sat down, Bull would have been more inclined to join him. Instead, he took a heavy blanket from one of his chests and draped it over the shivering man’s shoulders.

  
“Thank you,” Dorian smiled up at him, dried tear tracks obvious through his smudge kohl, and Bull wondered how he missed the fact that he’d been crying. Pain jolted through his chest, thinking that Dorian must be used to hiding his emotions and his reactions for Bull not to have noticed. Or he was losing his touch. Neither idea sat very good with Bull.

  
“Y’know, anytime you need a break from all that out there, my door is always unlocked,” Bull nodded, bending down slightly to ruffle Dorian’s hair.

  
“I just might have to take you up on that,” Dorian said, face breaking into an appreciate grin at the idea of having a safe haven.

  
Dorian ended up staying the night that night, Bull quickly stealing away across Shyhold to fetch a dry pair of robes. With some effort, Bull convinced him to share his bed, though they stayed a respectable distance away from each other. In the morning, the man had gone, leaving only a smear of kohl on the pillow in his wake. After that, Dorian readily stole away to Bull’s room, to talk and to drink and to sleep somewhere away from the threat of embarrassment at the other’s hands. Bull was growing increasingly frustrated with the pranking as well, the amount of times he had to console a softly crying or angrily fuming mage growing steadily.

 

\---

  
  
“They don’t hate you, you know,” Cole said quietly. The Inquisitor had chose their group to the Western Approach carefully, bringing Dorian along with Cole and Dorian to give the man some reprieve from the pranking. It was easy to see Dorian’s attitude change, the man relaxing despite the sand and the heat and the constant threat of angry wildlife. He was walking alongside the spirit boy, sharing pieces of an orange with him. For the most part, Cole had shied away from eating, but when Dorian had offered him some of his rare fruit imported by Josephine, his eyes lit up at the offer, understanding what an important gesture it was. Bull watched on, smiling at the pair, thankful that Dorian had someone besides just him that watched out for the man.

  
“That so?” Dorian said conversationally, focusing more on peeling the next orange to share.

  
“Yes. Scared, uncertain, a reminder of all those smug nobles who turned their eyes away from the grimy elf,” Cole explained, eyes going far away and glossy. Dorian easily know that one was Sera, and he tensed slightly, “Can’t trust an Altus, backstabbing, better-than-thou, but this one seems different, prissy and pampered but not _evil_.”

  
Bull frowned, knowing that one was Krem, knowing his lieutenant had some biases against the mage because of their backgrounds, yet never hearing it voiced before clearly now. Dorian sighed, holding out a chunk of the orange to the boy. Cole peered over at him under the brim of his hat for a moment before he took the orange.

  
“Bright, like the fish that kill you if you eat them. Can't hate you for hiding if you burn so brilliantly,” Cole mumbled as he took the orange. He bit into it, humming happily at the sharp and sweet taste, licking the juice from his fingers, “You shouldn’t hide, Dorian. They would like you more if you didn’t hide.”

  
“Yes, well…” Dorian shifted slightly, staring down at the half of the orange in his hands, “I suppose I haven’t had much opportunity to really be myself. A slip-up back home could have some disastrous consequences.”

  
Bull watched Dorian sadly, knowing how vicious ‘Vints could be when someone didn’t fall in line with their expectations. He also knew Dorian had his fair share of close-calls because of his attraction to men through their drunken conversations late at night. He let out a small growl of disapproval, the idea that Dorian was still scared to be who he was here making his stomach churn uneasily. Dorian glanced at him over his shoulder, expression a little distance and unreadable for a change.

  
“Better to be disliked for who you are than liked for who you aren’t,” Cole pointed out.

  
“Ah, yes,” Dorian agreed, sounding like something clicked, “Living a lie, it festers inside of you.”

  
“Yes,” Cole said, a sad smile crossing his face, “Did I help instead of hurt, for once?”

  
“I think so, Cole,” Dorian said with a smile, patting the spirit on the shoulder and offering up the last of his orange.

 

\---

  
  
Dorian was headed back to the table, class of the wine he’d been saving for when he really needed to unwind in hand. Cabot had kept it on ice for him, down in the cellars, and Dorian was pleased as punch to finally be able to taste something good from Tevinter again. It’d taken him months to set aside the money, since he was trying to pay Mae back and get the essentials for his quarters. He’d taken a sip to taste it, and took another long drink a few feet from his table. Either he was getting soft, or the wine was going straight to his head. He sneezed viciously, sloshing some of the wine on his clean robes, and swore. A chuckle rose up from those sitting around Bull, and the man shot them a disapproving look. Despite Dorian’s continued paranoia, distrust, and irritability, the mage had been putting an effort into making friends after Cole’s conversation, buying rounds at the bar and offering reading suggestions. Bull couldn’t blame him for his attitude at this point, he was starting to grow tired of the pranks and getting caught in the crossfire as he tried to get to know the ‘Vint more.

  
“This is getting old,” Bull groaned as Dorian sneezed loudly again, snot spraying as he tried to shield his nose and not slosh any more of his expensive wine.

  
“Nah,” Sera giggled behind a hand, “Pompous gits like him _need_ this sorta thing. The reminder they aren’t above us little people.”

  
“Dorian’s not like that,” Bull said defensively, shaking his head. He knew the man better, knew the others distrusted him because of the fact he was a ‘Vint , he complained tirelessly on all their trips, and he _acted_ like a spoiled brat (they should see how bare his room was and then maybe they’d understand a bit more). They still seemed to overlook how much time he spent researching for the Inquisition’s cause and how loyal to the Herald he proved to be time and time again. Cole’s conversation with Dorian echoed through his mind, a pang of pity for everyone involved cutting through him. Another sneeze and a mumbled apology as Dorian tried not to pay much mind to the snickering around him.

  
Before reaching his seat, Dorian began to sway unsteadily on his feet. Something felt _off_ , his throat feeling tight and itchy, his breathing catching as if he’d just battled Templars while running up a hill. The wine clattered from his hands with his next sneeze, his hand shaking and his heart thundering in his chest. Varric stood suddenly, the others now guffawing at the fact that Dorian had shattered his glass on the floor, all over the expensive pair of boots he wore (the only pair of boots he owned, noted Bull).

  
“Something not right,” Varric muttered, going to take a step forward.

  
“B-Bull,” Dorian wheezed out, tongue feeling thick, world tipping sideways. Bull had only turned halfway in his seat and Varric hadn’t jumped forward in time before he went crashing back onto the floor, head smacking audibly on the ground even over the noise of the tavern. His breathing sounded ragged and strained, his body jerking weakly, his wide eyes rolling back in his head. Blue electricity danced across his skin, striking the floor and leaving little burn marks.

  
“What did you assholes _do_?” Bull roared, scrambling out of his chair towards the writhing ‘Vint on the floor.

  
“Wasn’t supposed to be like this,” Sera said, wide-eyed and still on the other side of the table. Varric was swearing, carefully moving closer to the convulsing mage, a foot catching him in the shin. The whole tavern fell silent as people flew to their feet, Cabot coming around from the other side of the bar, a barmaid hurrying over.

  
“Fuck,” Bull spat, skirting back as a stray jolt of lightning cut through the air. Dorian’s body was arching off the floor, limbs jerking and trembling, jaw clenched tight, whites of his eyes showing. The pranks had been fun at first, sure, Bull even chuckling then. They’d been getting too messy and too mean, Dorian had never even retaliated besides a stream of curses and glares, and now _this_ , “Someone go get Cassandra or Cullen. They might be able to snuff his magic out so we can help him.”

  
Skinner scrambled to towards the door, probably the quickest member of the Chargers, and shouted at the gaping onlookers to move.

  
“They said it was only a sneezing potion,” Cabot breathed, fear evident in his voice as the length of Dorian’s arms sparked with flames, “He’s gonna burn down the Rest!”

  
Bull tried to move closer to Dorian again, but the flames on one arm flared violently. Dorian’s own hands were looking pink with burns, and the outline of his body was burnt into the ground. He swore loudly, glaring at Krem, who was still just _staring_ from his spot next to Sera.

  
“You thought this was a good idea?” Bull growled, flames burning the wooden floorboards, Dorian thrashing violently enough that they were worried he was going to really hurt himself.

  
“Didn’t…” Krem swallowed hard, shaking his head, eyes darting from Bull to the mage, sharp stalactites of ice rising around him now, “Didn’t want this.”

  
“Allergic,” Varric interrupted, “He’s allergic. I saw this once in Kirkwall, the lightning bolts and everything.”

  
“Fuck,” Bull scrubbed at his face, another flare of magic cracking a hole in the floor above Dorian.

  
“Alright, everybody out!” Cabot ordered, even thought a number of people were already scrambling out of the tavern at the risk of injury, muttering that _of course_ the magister couldn’t be trusted, was dangerous and unpredictable. Those still lingering to watch the show seemed hesitant to leave, and Bull noticed a few of the scummier soldiers elbowing each other and pointing as Dorian’s head thwacked against the floor again.

  
“Get OUT!” Bull roared at them, drawing himself up as large as he could. He was pretty sure one of the men wet himself before the tavern cleared itself, only Krem, Sera, Varric, and Cabot lingering.  Bull pointed a finger at them, “You assholes get out, too.”

  
The statement was punctuated by a wave of fire that caught an innocent table on fire and grazed Varric’s arm.

  
“We did this. We gotta make it right,” Sera mumbled, never having wanted this. There were tears in her eyes, angry and embarrassed. She was just having a bit of fun, and Dorian wasn’t really _that_ bad. He still kept making an effort to get to know and understand Sera, despite all the stupid pranks they’d been pulling on her. A wave of guilt washed over her, and she made a frustrated noised.

  
A spark of lightning hit Bull’s shoulder, making his own arm twitch, and he took another step back. There was a blackened mark leftover, and he almost wished it had hit one of the others, given them a dose of their own medicine.

  
“I got the Commander, Chief!” Skinner burst through the door, a bleary-looking Cullen close on her heels. He was dressed in a light tunic and breeches, probably meaning Skinner had snatched him out of bed.

  
“I haven’t had to negate someone’s magic in ages, but I think I still have the ability,” Cullen nodded, eyes snapping to Dorian. He was one of the few who had stayed out of this mess, too, having seen some of it when Dorian showed up for their weekly chess matches. When he watched the way Dorian’s head lulled and the magic he so feared crackled around him, his breath caught, “Maker’s balls.”

  
“Snap too it, Curly,” Varric said, giving him a push forward.

  
Dorian’s tremors seemed to be dying down, but with another strong jerk, a sheet of ice began to coat the floor. It caught at Cabot’s foot as he started to back up, the man falling flat on his ass and Bull felt a little satisfaction at that. A look of concentration came onto Cullen’s face and he gestured with his hand, a white wave of light cutting a path towards Dorian. It enveloped him, the sizzle of magic going out. His body gave a final, violent shudder before he slumped against the floor, eyes fluttering shut and mouth falling open.

  
Bull jumped forward, scooping the man off the floor. His pulse was there, weak but there, but no breath was coming from him. Bull swore again, shooting daggers at those responsible, before dashing from the tavern towards the infirmary.

  
Cullen gestured angrily at the damage, “No more of this! You all will be responsible for the damage here. Plus, extra duties around Skyhold once I think of them. You lot best thank Andraste it wasn’t worse.”

  
“Yes, ser,” Krem said dutifully, the other three mumbling the same agreement after his cue.

  
“Now, put that fire out and take leave,” Cullen waved at the still-flaming table, his head ringing from using his Templar powers again after so long.

 

\---

  
  
Dorian slept through the night, the healers able to start him breathing again with little difficulty, also mending the injuries he sustained from his own magic and the fall. Bull lingered near his bed, not wanting the poor guy to wake up alone in the infirmary after all of that. A groan rose from him, Dorian shifting stiffly in his bed, before his eyes blinked open. He stared at the ceiling wordlessly, foggy memories of the tavern coming back to him.

  
“Hey, big guy,” Bull said gently, leaning closer to Dorian, “How yah feeling?”

  
“Tired,” Dorian croaked out, some lingering affects of the reaction remaining. His throat still felt raw and his head was swimming just enough to be an annoyance.

  
“Yeah, suspected as much,” Bull nodded, reaching out to scratch his nails against Dorian’s scalp. Dorian let out a content noise, eyes falling shut again.

  
“They tried to kill me,” Dorian breathed out, remembering the sneezing, how he felt before the world went dark.

  
Bull sighed, “Didn’t mean to kill you, Dorian. Those pranks got a bit out of hand. You were allergic to their sneezing potion.”

  
“Ah,” Dorian frowned, eyes still shut. His lip trembled, and Bull recognized that tell from the meeting with Dorian’s father, from the run-in with Mother Giselle.

  
“You’re alright,” Bull tried to sooth, stroking a thumb across his forehead.

  
“Why do they hate me?” Dorian asked, cloudy eyes opening to look up questioningly at the Bull.

  
“Ah, shit,” Bull grunted, hand stilling for a moment. When a tear slipped down Dorian’s cheek, he moved his hand to brush it away, “Don’t think they hate you. I think Sera’s slowly warming up to you, if you can believe that.”

  
Dorian shook his head slightly, the effort making his head thud painfully again, another tear slipping down his cheek.

  
“Just give it some time. They aren’t as perceptive as me, can’t see how gooey you are on the inside,” Bull murmured, wiping away another tear and leaning in to softly kiss his forehead, “Might wanna drop some of your pompous asshole ‘Vint routine, though. Might make them realize things quicker.”

  
Dorian nodded, gave a shaky laugh. The feeling of Bull’s lips on his forehead lingered, making his brows furrow, and he knew he wasn’t clearheaded enough to give it the proper thought the gesture deserved. Instead, for now, he basked in the warm afterglow of the kiss and the safety of Bull’s presence.

 

\---

  
  
Once Dorian was permitted to leave the infirmary, he kept to the library. Bull made an appearance regularly, making sure the mage was eating and sleeping and not driving himself completely nuts. He wasn’t quite convinced the others would end their pranking, and the library had been relatively safe. There’d been the cushion Krem had sewn to sound like passing gas when Dorian sat, and bottle of wine that had stuck to Dorian’s hand for a solid day after picking it up, but they’d been threatened by both Solas and Fiona to keep the library a quiet, safe place after that. When footsteps closed in and Sera appeared in his alcove, Dorian tensed slightly under her gaze, but continued to read his tome.

  
“Here to finish me off?” Dorian asked testily, and Sera winced.

  
“Nah, I’m here to … to say I’m sorry,” Sera admitted, shoulders slumped forward, head bowed slightly.

  
“What _ever_ for?” Dorian looked up sharply, deciding to pray on Sera’s bad feeling for a little while longer. He had certainly suffered through enough pain and embarrassment over the last few months. Cole's words came back to him, reminding him that Sera saw him like she saw all those stuffy Orlesians who overlooked a street urchin, and his heart clenched slightly.

  
“Look, I never meant for that to happen,” Sera insisted, picking at some scabs on her forearm, “I was just trying to have a little fun.”

  
Dorian quirked his eyebrows, “This doesn’t sound like any sort of apology I’ve ever heard.”

  
Sera huffed, “I’m sorry. I was a git and you aren’t so bad. Not bad enough to make you go all jittery like that.”

  
“Well, I…” Dorian shifted slightly, standing up slowly. Sera winced again, almost scared Dorian was going to retaliate somehow, “I admit I’ve been a pompous asshole as well. I accept your apology, and I would like to suggest a truce. No more pranks, and I’ll try my best not to let my stunning good looks and wit go to my head _too_ much.” Dorian extended his hand, and Sera looked at it with some suspicion. Slowly, she extended hers as well and shook his hand firmly.

  
“Truce,” she agreed, a small smile turning up the corner of her mouth. Maybe the mage really wasn’t so bad after all.

 

\---

  
  
Dorian finally worked up the courage to make an appearance in the tavern a few weeks later. Bull had invited him out more than once, but they usually spent time drinking and talking in Bull’s quarters instead. In that time, there’d been no more pranks on him or anyone else for that matter. Dorian wondered if it had really scared them enough to stop, or if threat of personal harm from Bull was what did it. He took a deep breath outside the doors before diving in, holding his head high and acting as if nothing changed. It was a pretty slow night, Cullen on a mission with a large group of soldiers, the Inquisitor away with Bull, Sera, and Blackwall. His eyes flickered to what remained of the burn marks on the floor, faded but still there, and he swallowed audibly.

  
“Dorian!” Krem called out to him as he made his way towards the bar. He waved him over, and Dorian hesitantly moved in his direction. Grim was the only other Charger at the table currently, and Dorian was thankful for that.

  
“Greetings,” Dorian said as warmly as he could muster when his heartbeat was growing audible in his ears. He better understood Cole's words now, but it wasn't quite enough to take away that edge of fear.

  
“Let me buy your rounds tonight,” Krem offered, and Dorian knew it was his way of apologizing.

  
“Without the poison this time, I hope,” he quipped lightly, with the right sort of tone and light smile that Krem knew he was joking. He laughed nervously, scratching at the back of his head.

  
“Yeah, about that…” Krem’s weak smile faltered, “Sorry, Dorian. Realized we’ve been rather tough on you.”

  
Doria nodded, “I appreciate that. I do realize I haven’t been the most easy-to-get-along-with person, either.”

  
“Well, pull up a seat,” Krem insisted, flagging down a barmaid and ordering them rounds, “I suppose if you can forgive me for almost killing yah, I can give a Magister a chance.”

  
As the night went on, the rest of the Chargers joined their table. Dorian relaxed as he downed more beers, the group laughing with him and telling him the most embarrassing stories they could think of about the Bull. Dorian was particularly fond of the tale of Bull getting stuck in a tree by his belt after a giant tossed him like a rag doll. Having this sorry lot as friends might not be so bad, Dorian thought as they broke into a chorus of loud laughter.  

**Author's Note:**

> Hope everything made sense!  
> The crueler jokes (druffalo dung) were via the soldiers and not Krem/Sera/Varric because they might have done a mean joke or two, but that's just cruel. And they wouldn't want to deal with the smell all day.  
> I included the bit with Cole to make Sera/Krem seem less like jerks and express a bit of their inner feelings more, as well as show that some people were watching out for Dorian some. I dunno. Unsure about that little sence.
> 
> Talk to me, send me prompts, whatever you want!:  
> thekingofcarrotflower.tumblr.com/


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